


Orange You Glad

by AteYellowPaint



Series: Joger Week 2021 [3]
Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Early Queen (Band), Fluff, M/M, Pre-Slash, Psychedelic Trip, There's a kiss in there, but could be read as gen, but they're on drugs soooo, just pure fluff, love confessions???, mushroom trip, soft boys bein soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-14 09:20:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29168715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AteYellowPaint/pseuds/AteYellowPaint
Summary: “And the trees…” John perked up again. “They’re alive.”Roger snorted. “Well, of course they’re alive.”“No, no…” John dismissively waved his hand in the air. “They’reconnected.”“Ah, yeah,” Roger said and John was glad he understood.-or-John and Roger go on a little trip.
Relationships: John Deacon & Roger Taylor, John Deacon/Roger Taylor
Series: Joger Week 2021 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2136810
Comments: 18
Kudos: 21
Collections: Joger Week 2021





	Orange You Glad

**Author's Note:**

> Hey y'all, happy day three of Joger Week!! So for today, I twisted the prompt "Divorce" into "Divorced from Reality" and wrote about a lil mushroom trip! I had a lot of fun writing this one, so I hope you like it, too!
> 
> Also, Lewsie's favorite green shag rug makes an appearance in this fic cause it needed to show up at least once this week

“Do you see it?” John asked.

“See what?” 

John turned his head to the side and looked at Roger. The lines of the red checkered blanket they laid on were pulsing in and out underneath Roger’s head. The sun beamed down so perfectly on Roger’s profile and enhanced the orange aura John always knew he had. His hair looked like spun gold and John didn’t hesitate to reach out and run his fingers down a strand. It didn’t feel like gold, unfortunately. It did feel very soft, though, and John giggled when he ran his fingers through it again.

“The trees,” John finally answered when he remembered that Roger had a question.

Roger turned his head to face John. His pupils were blown and John could swear the blue in his eyes were dancing. Even his eyelashes seemed to breathe in time with his long, slow blinks. John wasn’t sure how long they laid there looking at each other before Roger spoke up again.

“What about them?”

John turned his attention back to the trees above them. He couldn’t see the individual leaves anymore. Instead, they looked like--

“They look like church windows,” John said.

“Church windows?”

“Yeah…” John stretched his arms above him, letting his torso catch the warm rays that touched down on them from the sky. “All stained… with the sun.”

John kept his hands above his head and let his knees collapse to one side.

From one tree to the next, the leaves all blended together. Some places were stained darker with shadow while others glowed bright with the sun and some breaks in the leaves allowed in fractals of golden light which blessed the ground and the grass. And the blades of grass felt so _real_ beneath his fingers. And the sun was so warm and the cool April breeze tickled his stomach where his shirt had ridden up and everything was just as it should be.

“And the trees…” John perked up again. “They’re alive.”

Roger snorted. “Well, of course they’re alive.”

“No, no…” John dismissively waved his hand in the air. “They’re _connected_.”

“Ah, yeah,” Roger said and John was glad he understood.

“And they listen- they listen to us,” John continued. “And they get sad- oh God, Roger, they get so sad when… when…”

John’s vision blurred and he felt hot tears streaming down his temples and into his hairline. Before he could comprehend what was happening, his view of the trees was obstructed by Roger appearing above him. He had a concerned look on his face and John couldn’t help but feel bad that he was the cause of it.

Even still, Roger’s hair burned gold and his aura radiated goodness and it only made John cry harder that he was so lucky to know someone as intrinsically beautiful as Roger.

“Hey, hey, come on,” Roger said, taking John’s face in his hands.

And, wow, his hands were so warm on John’s cheeks like Roger was the sun god himself. John couldn’t help but let his eyes slip closed as he basked in the warmth of his friend.

“Are the trees listening now?” Roger’s voice broke John out of his reverie.

John blinked his eyes open. “...Yeah.”

“Are they sad now?”

John took a moment to check.

“No, no they’re just listening right now.” John sniffled.

“Do you want to say goodbye to them?” Roger asked, nodding and John couldn’t help but nod along.

“Alright,” Roger said, “let’s say goodbye and then we can go home.”

John looked at the trees one more time. “Okay.”

***

John and Roger sat with their legs crossed and knees touching on Roger’s horrid puke-green shag rug. Pink Floyd spun on in the background as they stared at each other.

It started when Roger sat back down on the rug to tell John something and caught John’s eye. As soon as he did, John couldn’t look away and then Roger couldn’t look away and then whatever Roger had to say was forgotten as they studied each other.

John had never looked at someone’s eyes for so long, not even his own. He could see the tiny light blue threads that stood out against the dark blue of Roger’s irises. They wiggled and danced as if they were waving hello to John. He caught his reflection in Roger’s pupils as they expanded and contracted. It was almost as if he was _inside_ of Roger’s pupil. And all at once, John realized that Roger was looking at him just as intimately, could see inside of him, _was_ inside of him and John just had to--

“Roger, I love you so much, I need you to believe me,” John blurted out.

Roger let out a breath that sounded like a cross between a sigh and a laugh.

“Christ, I love you too, mate,” Roger said and the floodgates opened as John poured out everything he always felt but could never put into words.

“It’s like I look at you, and- and our music, and our rhythm like- like the hearts but also like the beats and…” John brought his legs under himself as he tangled his fingers with Roger’s. “We’re just… we’re so…”

Roger squeezed his hand. “Connected?”

John gasped, his eyes welling up again. “You get it.”

“Yeah, Deaky,” Roger said, his own eyes glassy with unshed tears. “I get it.”

John nodded and blinked back his tears before he leaned forward and pressed their lips together. It wasn’t passionate, or even particularly romantic, it was just what he felt he needed to do in the moment.

Roger brushed the backs of his fingers along John’s jaw as he returned the kiss, and in that moment the world didn’t seem so big anymore because John knew he had someone who understood him completely.

John pulled away and sat back on his heels. He smiled wide, and smiled even wider when Roger grinned as well. Roger lunged forward and wrapped his arms around John’s neck. John didn’t hesitate to bring his arms around Roger’s middle and bury his face in his shoulder.

“I get it,” Roger whispered into his neck. John squeezed him even tighter.

They stayed like that for minutes or hours - John didn’t know and it didn’t really matter. All he knew was that Roger’s breaths tickled his neck and Roger’s fingers played with his hair and Roger’s laundry detergent and coconut shampoo wrapped him in a comforting cocoon and everything was as it should be.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks a million for reading I really hope you loved it! I will never get enough of soft early 70s dealor <3
> 
> also if you want to hang out on Tumblr and scream about Deaky with me, my username is @psychicstrawberryworld!


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